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History of the Ilroch Tribe
The History of the Ilroch Tribe is documented mostly in the texts "The End of Cycle" and its follow-ups "Addendum A" '''and '"Addendum B", ''which were a series of texts written by the scholar Rapscalia under the assignment of the Arch Crystal Tower in Galik. The End of Cycle Preface Upon receiving this assignment, I honestly did not expect to find the Ilroch herd. Centaurs were the stuff of legends and, much like dragons, are gone from this world. Imagine my surprise when I not only stumbled upon the Ilroch herd upon stepping onto the southern shores of Isonhound, but also a herd from Pteris itself! I had, quite unwittingly, stepped into their Festival of Mielikki. Luckily, they were a friendly, welcoming bunch and I was soon sat with a mug of watered down ale watching the festival events take place. Over the course of my time with the Ilroch, I came to admire not just their strength and ingenuity, but their inner hamony. There are societies few and far inbetween which can claim a (without any factual proof) two hundred year peace not only with their neighbors and within their herd, but with the land as well. I have come to believe that this may be the most well sustained life style currently known to scholars. That is, as long as it is not interrupted by others. The loss of the Ilroch herd is the loss of a part Mielikki herself. -Rapscalia, Year 9 History Before this one, there had yet to be a written history of the Ilroch herd. Their belief in growth and incessant change as well as their migratory nature, leads them to orally pass down lessons shaped as stories, rather than read from a dusty tomb. The most common stories of the Ilroch tribe include Lith the crispy centaur, and Raumo, the rash. Unfortunately, this tradition has lead to loss of the details of much of the Ilroch herd's past. It is possible that some has been recorded by outsiders, such other roaming fey, or even another Illumian scholar (such as myself), but such a recording has yet to be discovered. However, the Ilroch remained above ground during the Age of Dragons due to their ungainly size. Therefore, much of what transpired in those years is likely lost to the ages outside of the Ilroch tales. At the end of the age of dragons, winter had set upon the world and the Ilroch were first spotted near what is now Glendoveer, holding to their migratory pattern. This placed them south, near Pteris at the start of the Realm War, so they remained safely away from most fighting during that year. I joined them there, during their quad-annual festival of Mielikki, which occurs at the start of every spring. Once spring set in and we began their trek north, we were severely hindered by the ever-expanding Woldin. Avoiding elvish territories and settlements became increasingly difficult as the year passed and this caused some disgruntlement among the herd ranks. In response, they elected Cuara, an expert archer, as well as Fallaner, a healer, and Kora, a level headed leader, to the their council, replacing three younger, greener herd members. Come summer, they were truly in the thick of not only Woldin territory, but also the Elf war. At this point, they were asked by Woldin to join their ranks and the council turned this decision over to the herd. After two tense nights, the vote was cast 25 to 17 and they did not join. Whether this was the downfall of the herd, or whether their fate had previously been set is yet to be determined, but it only got worse from here on out. The summer turned out to be cool one, but the winter following was the worst recorded in recent history. Even moving south towards Glendoveer, we could not escape the icy grip of the north and it was said the permafrost extended to every beach of Isonhound. Woldin and Glendoveer managed to thrive through trade, but mainly through magical farming techniques they developed. Without any livable land, the herd was forced to begin heavily trading with Glendoveer to support themselves. Eventually, a Glendoveeran elf which the herd called Edhelli joined as a traveler. She began to teach a few of the centaurs how to use this agricultural magic, and two others, Tua and Kemen, soon joined as well. The move south in the spring was better, and worse. Woldin had vastly expanded in the past years, making their normal migration route impassable. Additionally, any new route North would put us straight through the war zone. On the other hoof, the Festival of Meilikki lead to the development of a new kind of fighting style that blended their inherent arcana and archery skills. Hesitant to stay in the south during the harsh summer, the council decided to move the herd North again along a new route. Unfortunately, this put us in the middle of a horrific battle that, to this day, spans the entire continent. To their credit, a heated council debate ended in the decision to use their druidic healing magic to aid anyone who asks for it, but to harm anyone who harmed them. Their new arcane archery skills saved us many times in the coming year, but in the end, was another piece in the puzzle of their downfall. News of not only their improved archery, but also of their Glendoveeran travelers soon got back to Woldin. Having turned them down once before, Woldin decided the Ilroch herd was no longer worth the risk. On a crisp autumnal evening, a strike of between 50 and 100 well-trained Woldin warriors blindsided the camp. Taken completely by surprise, many were slain instantly, and many more in the minutes after. Edhelli and I had taken to sharing a tent, and were only able to escape by riding on the back of Cuara and her daughter, Roha. Cuara, a master archer, was able to carry us away safely from the camp. Come dawn, I returned and found 29 centaurs dead. Accounting for Roha and Cuara, that leaves eleven centaurs and Tuar missing. We spent the next month searching for survivors, but found none. Eventually, we returned Edhelli to her home in Glendoveer and I saw Cuara and Roha off on a refugee boat to Champerty. What has become of those herd members or those missing, I do not know. Addendum A Preface The year the Realm War started was the same year I received my assignment to study the Ilroch tribe of Isonhound. It has been 9 long years since then, I blush at the thought but on these long rides back to Galik, I imagine myself with long locks of braided hair. An illumian like myself is voluntarily bald, so I will keep my braids limited to the various rope making techniques I learned in my decade with the tribe. I learned many things among these beautiful creatures, and all of my notes from those years can be found in my previous submission The End of Cycle. It is recommended to read The End of the Cycle before the Addendum, but if you have not, a brief recount can be found in the appendix to this addendum. My final remarks in The End of Cycle were ones of hope, not dread. My notes that follow do not have that same hopeful ending, and I felt it is my duty to alert you, Scholar, that the story of the Ilroch ends here with my Addendum. The Survivors After returning and submitting The End of Cycle two years ago, I immediately set back out to discover the survivors and find out if there was any chance of Ilroch survival in the war. Upon recounting my memories on the boat back to the Isonhound coast, I distinctly remember the absence of Fallaner among the 29 bodies. Fallaner, who was the clan healer, would surely be seeking and tended to the wounded. As both a natural druid and survivalist by birth, my search focused on Fallaner with the hopes that he would lead me to the rest. I found Fallaner on the Shongle river just south of the Glendoveer territory, in an area dense with stalkers and ambushers waiting to capture any insurgents who patrol these wilds on the fey front. To say he saved my life is no understatement. Fallaner had literally pulled me out of the river, where I laid bleeding due to a surprise strike that afternoon from a group of forest scouts. Half concious on his back, I was carried deep into the sylvan wilds to the north, in a cold area near the coast of Isonhound where the fey front was mostly inactive. Fighting at these temperatures could be dangerous for the thin-skinned elves. It was there that I finally stumbled upon the other five surviving Ilroch tribe. Besides Fallaner, there was Ofa, Urisdyl, Sonoth, Vidor, and Afurn. They informed me that Klyia, Plohetus, and several others did not survive long after the ambush the previous year. It was the year 10, which felt of Fall, and a fair number of the centaur had believed that surviving the oncoming winter would be impossible even with the agricultural techniques they learned from Edhelli, Taur, and Kemen. Keeping with my original oath to study the Ilroch keep the first record of their behavior, I stayed with this small team of six for the next 5 months as they hid here on the north coast. Year 11 would be coming soon, and with it the deep freeze that would typically drive the clan south. But by now, the land between Woldlin and Glendoveer was a full on war zone, and it would be a death march to make it to the other side. We were all trapped. Afurn's death came abruptly in the night. Fallener and others could produce flames and create bonfires, but the magics took concentration, and on occasion Fallener would inevitably fall asleep from exhaustion keeping the others warm. The brief periods of cold were bearable, but Afurn was one of the eldest of the tribe, and it appeared that the nights were only getting colder as Fall faded into winter. Afurn's death led the remaining five to take a vote. I was reminded of a similar crossroads one summer many years ago. At the time, the Ilroch council had led the clan in a vote whether or not to assist Woldlin forces in the protection of their territory in exchange for safe haven in their kingdom. The tribe at the time voted 25 to 17. This time the tribe voted 4 to 1 to take the trip. Vidor was the only dissenting voice, and was given the option to stay in the cold or join the others. For the first time in my decade with the Ilroch, I watched the tribe voluntarily split. Vidor, who could produce flames of warming, decided to stay put. It continues to surprise me how hard headed these centaur could act in the face of imminent danger. And so, with the winter around the corner, the four centaur and I began our hike back into dangerous territory. The Voyage South Attempting a journey across an active front is not a quest for the sensitive. Almost every day we came across a challenge, either in the form of survivors in need, traps to avoid, ambushes from the canopies, or even abrasive forces of Glendoveer, who we would have to persuade time and time again to not take us as prisoners of war. On our 10th day traveling south through the wilds, we were ambushed again. But it was unlike before. I saw the hearts of the centaurs break in unison with mine as we crossed paths with elf soldiers led by Tuar and Kemen. Only a year or so ago did these two stay endless nights with us. I watched them pass on various elven techniques of both archery and arcana to the group. They joined us slightly after Edhelli. Edhelli was from Glendoveer, I would know that as I dropped him off in his home woods myself. Tuar and Kemen, however, I had assumed were dead or had run off after the initial ambush. But here they stood with a group of soldiers, all dressed with that obnoxiously ornate sylvan symbol of Woldlin. I took the betrayal personally. I couldn't help but scream at them for joining the ranks of the genocidal Woldlin. But then the pieces all came together as I yelled them into the echoing woods. Edhelli, Tua, and Kemen had joined the Ilroch shortly after the vote to remain neutral. Edhelli wasn't acting out of generosity, he was trying to prove that Glendoveer cared more than Woldlin. Woldlin asked for soldiers and Glendoveer gave them gifts of food and magic. Tuar and Kemen came shortly after Edhelli, and though they claimed to be Glendoveeran, Edhelli never mentioned any sort of unity among the three. It was Tuar and Kemen who pushed for more extreme arcane techniques and lethal archery powers. They were pushing the Ilroch to become more powerful, and I even admitted in my last submission that their new arcane archery skills saved the Ilroch countless times. When the time came for the Ilroch to vote again on their position in the War, they took sides with neither Woldlin nor Glendoveer. They had revealed themselves to be unassisted or protected to all present. If the Centaur had now chosen not to follow Glendoveer, they were as defenseless as they would ever be. If Woldlin took offense to the first vote, the second vote secured their window to strike. I took the little time we had to tell the Ilroch of my epiphanies, I readied them to attack their former companions. Tuar and Kemen were Wodlin spies the entire time. Sonoth got the first shot in, Tuar was down with an arrow between his sylvan ears. In the erupting battle, we only lost Sonoth. I watched how powerful these Ilroch were even in small numbers. A troop of 10 elves could only take down 1 centaur before they were all laying face down themselves. Fallener said it would be wrong to not give Sonoth a burial. My own heartache betrayed me and I recommended we include Tuar and Kemen bodies in the grave--a mistake I would soon regret. I remember distinctly discussing this evening how our progress was set back by the evening's many burials, but with so few Ilroch remaining, it was essential that we sanctified every loss. Sonoth received his burial, but then Ofa was dead by morning. Our position was compromised and we had to flee with the few members we had left. I remember waking that morning and seeing the grave disturbed where we had buried Sonoth, Tuar, and Kemen. Ofa had fought her attacker in the night, mortally injuring him judging by the thick trail of blood, but even with his damage he must have somehow had the energy to dig up Tuar's body and take it back with him into the wilds. The next two days were quiet on the front as we continued to travel south. Only Fellener, Urisdyl and myself remained. One male and one female were all that the Ilroch needed for survival. As long as there were two there was hope. One male and one female could revive the whole clan by the end of the century. On the final day of the year, the last of the many tragedies of the Ilroch struck. As the three of us hid in a grove outside of the Glendoveer territory, we had discovered we were being followed. It must have been easy, as our numbers dwindled, the faster we ran. And now cornered, we offered everything we could to the oncoming rustling in the forest. I write this now with full control of my faculties---the face that emerged from the woods was a twin of the dead Tuar, now haunting us again. I have seen many elves, but never one who looked so much like a familiar face as this stalking assassin. If I hadn't known Tuar to be dead, I would say it was him in the flesh. Tuar's doppelganger had us cornered, and we had felt so exhausted from sleepless nights on the run that we couldn't hope to have a fighting chance. Fellener and Urisdyl went painlessly, and that is all I can bring myself to write. I asked him why he spared me, and he took me in close, knife to my throat, and forced me to write his family name. He wanted me to ensure the Tower had record of the name that brought about the extinction of the Ilroch. So with heavy heart I write the extinction of the Ilroch was committed by the Rhivir elves of Woldlin. Final Thoughts Winter finally came with the new year. It is my hope that it is not a particularly cold one for Vidor's sake, but even this far south as I ride home towards Galik, I can feel its bite. I do not have high hopes for Vidor. With those final words, I conclude my decade long research into the Ilroch tribe, their culture, history, and ending now will sit among the stories in our Tower. Addendum A. Appendix 1: The End of the Cycle Briefly Recounted When I submitted my research two years ago to the Tower, I last recounted the harsh winters and problematics of migration through an area plagued by the war of the fey. Peaceful creatures of the land, you can imagine the atrocities of the front had a lasting impact on the Ilroch tribe. Numbering roughly 40, split evenly among mares and the colts, the Ilroch tribe could move quickly through the forests and make yearly migrations as the seasons crept in on them from every side. Trapped between the unforgiving cold and the merciless war fronts, the Ilroch (and myself) were blessed gifts from Glendoveer. Druidic magic was brought by a generous group of elves who helped the Ilroch survive the winters and avoid moving into warmer (and more dangerous) territory. The Ilroch then experienced a small genocide in the name of the war, but there were many who got away. The story of those who got away is in my addendum titled The End of Cycle Addendum A. Addendum B Preface I must admit that the Ilroch Tribe never ceases to surprise me. It has been a scant few months since my last addition to this epic tale, yet their fate has once again turned on a copper as quickly as the winter settled in Isonhound. I previously warned you, dear Scholar, the the Ilroch's fate ended with my last writing. Under Obad-Hai's frosty winter skies, however, it seems I have been proven false yet again. My last message was that of duty and dread, but this one is only, a perhaps indulgent, rejoicing. The Survivors After the ending of my last writing, I happened by chance to run into Roha, the Glendoveeran Savior - a survivor of the initial Woldlin slaughter who was not present on Isonhound during the occurrence of the second due to her belief that her tribe was already dead. I had the unfortunate duty to tell her that they once were not, but now are what she believed them to be. Tears briefly filled her eyes, only to be replaced with the determination I have come to view as characteristic of the Ilroch. Within the breadth of a few sentences, she was sending me out again to meet another survivor - her mother, Cuara - who was widely known to be fighting on the front lines in Champtery. She insisted that I return to Cuara in order to record the Ilroch's traditions and rituals, so they may be continued in the future. At first, I was confused. The tribe was extinct! Who would be there to carry on these traditions? However, I soon discovered that Roha intended to travel via teleport to Isonhound once more to save Vidor from winter's clutch. I gladly provided what aid I could and that was the last I heard from her for many days. The Strategist Upon arrival in Champerty, I spent those days recording all that I could of the Ilroch customs in free moments between battles and at meals with Cuara. Less than a week into this endeavor, Cuara lost her left arm rendering her bowless on the field. Although we wept over her loss, I secretly rejoiced knowing that this was just the oppurtunity the Ilroch needed. Now unable to participate on the field, I soon convinced Cuara to return home to Isonhound, meet the Pterin tribe as was custom at this time of year, and be rejoined with her daughter. This then, was communicated to Roha via letter and I could only pray she would meet us there at the right time. The Reckoning What I didn't know until later was the Roha spent those days not only successfully saving Vidor from another of Tuar's ambushes, but also laying an ambush for Tuar himself. She and the Oathwielders cleverly lead Tuar and his Woldlin company into a battle with the thieves guild of Galik. As was explained to me by Roha, Tuar was a Rhivir - a being that could not die because they were being given life by Nerul in order to keep the Gone but Not Forgotten curse on the dragon skeletons about the realm. They killed Tuar's company in that battle and Roha kept Tuar's disembodied head with her, intending to find a way to kill him later. On their way out, Vidor and Roha were interrupted by an ensuing battle in Galik against Nerul's undead armies. In this battle, Roha gave Tuar's head to Helm in part of an exchange with Helm to save her and Vidor's lives. After the battle's end, Nerul's undead army had been slain for good and Roha's revenge became complete. The Beginning and End After the battle, Roha and Vidor followed my suggestions and returned to Isonhound to meet with me, Cuara, and the Pterin tribe. With more somber remembrance and less carefree rejoicing, the annual festival came to pass and the Ilroch's story told for the first time. In the a few months following the festival, I received happy news from the Ilroch that Roha and Vidor were soon to be raising a stubborn child of their own who they christened Eve in honor of not only of the protection granted to them by Milikki and Obad-Hai, but also of their risen ally. With the Fey Front still alive and well and winter settling quickly I must report that the Ilroch's future is still a difficult one, but not one without hope. With this, I conclude my third installment of my research into the tribe's history and customs knowing that it will certainly not be the last to grace our shelves. -Rapscalia, Year 10